


Panicked

by took_skye



Category: The Night Manager (TV)
Genre: Comfort Sex, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Panic Attacks, Smut, Spies & Secret Agents, Undercover Missions, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 04:04:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16846771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/took_skye/pseuds/took_skye
Summary: “Take a deep breath, slowly let it out.”





	Panicked

The dream shot him awake - sweating, cursing, tears releasing without his consent or control. Jonathan could no longer remember where he was, he could barely remember who he was, who he should be, anymore. He had few contacts to remind him and the last few weeks he’d been unable to send or receive anything from that end of his existence.

His heart battered his chest, adrenaline shook his body, and his head spun. He was completely unprepared for the sudden weight of the figure…it was pure instinct that told him to be still. That this wasn’t a threat, but a lifeline.

“Alder…” your voice stayed soft, but remarkably stern, as you pulled his tie from his neck. “Alder, what is it?”

Was that his name now? Was it his first or last? Who was she? Friend or foe? He grabbed his chest as it tensed, he tensed, further. Air escaped his lungs without seeming to return afresh.

Straddling him you undid, then popped, buttons free. “Allergies?” Hand on his chest his heart slapped back. “Heart or lung problems?” He shook his head, starting to feel darkness take hold of his focus. Oh god, he’d surely been poisoned; he was dying! “Hey!” You grabbed his face. “Focus!” Your hands turned gentle as he blinked into your eyes. “You are okay. You are not going to die.”

He felt fingers discreetly wipe tears from his cheek. Your confidence reassured, kindness calmed. He couldn’t remember himself, but he could cling to what you were certain of. If no one else, if never again, Jonathan would trust you as you straddled him now.

“Take a deep breath, slowly let it out.”

Pine gasped, gulped, like he was drowning. Like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

“Like me,” you ordered, demonstrated with a big inhale from the nose, dramatically slow exhale from the mouth. “Copy me.” You did it again, let breath gently cool his skin.

With concentrated effort he began to mirror. His chest met with each inhale; exhales mingled in the tiny space between your lips. As you began to smile he grabbed your thigh. He needed an anchor, something to ground him in the sea of uncertainty he now lived in.

“Good…” Your hand returned to his chest. “Focus on me, on my breathing…” His heart started to calm. “…Good…” the other hand brushed his face, smoothed away tears and worry lines. It brushed through his hair when his grip tightened. “You’re doing great.”

“Don’t leave.” It was an order, a beg, a panicked thought expressed with aggression.

“I’m not going anywhere, Alder.” You smiled, removed those things he’d fallen asleep wearing - watch, jacket, belt. Lips to his ear, you undid his shirt fully. “You are Alder Graves, I am Talia Cascade, we’re in Mumbai…”

Jonathan stopped your mouth with his. He was recalling himself - his cover self and his true self - the less said now the better. Yet, unwilling to let go, he deepened the kiss with a slight growl. Hands moved to your hips as you kissed gently over his face, got up on knees to kiss his forehead and breath in the scent of his hair.

With reassuring smile you dropped nightgown to the floor with his clothing. His mouth took a breast, suckled and licked the nipple to a peak until he turned his attention to the other. Tingles of pleasure flooded your body, pooled in wetness between your thighs, as you pressed in, encouraged with moans. Hands kneaded his shoulders, his back.

Maybe it was for the cover, maybe it was for the closeness…motive didn’t matter just now. You both had precious little time to truly enjoy anything, you both would enjoy this. A connection, however tenuous, with another who might understand how fucked your head became moving through this world.

His hand slipped around, pressed into the wetness of your panties before he shifted them aside. Your gasp was countered by his groan as fingers slipped inside of you. You rode his hand as his thumb massaged your clit.

“Fuck…” Lips found his again, hands went to his fly. He was hard, straining against trousers, but before you could free his cock you were on your back

Hurriedly he stripped the rest of way. “Yes?”

“Yes.”

A curse escaped Jonathan’s mouth as cunt greeted him with wet heat; you swallowed his curse before releasing your own. This was not your first time together, but it was the first time he felt need for it. His own need, not his cover’s. His kiss turned greedy to grateful and back again; whatever his desire, you obliged in kind.

You wrapped him up, held him close and secure. He tried to hide his continued shaking in his thrusts, but you felt them. The remainders of sheer panic as clear as tear-stained cheeks. You moved to smooth hands through his hair, found his lips and kissed softly. You met his thrusts, he copied your breathing.

“Jonathan,” he confessed what you already knew.

You smiled, gave your true name back.

For the first time you each made love as yourselves.


End file.
